Tails of the Old Republic
by pyrevulpimorph
Summary: Miles "Tails" Prower mysteriously awakens aboard the Republic capital ship, Endar Spire. Stripped of his memory and his possessions, the adolescent Mobian must now come to terms with his new circumstances... and find his way home.
1. Chapter 1

**Tails of the Old Republic**  
Chapter 001

* * *

Miles Prower's head throbbed. He felt dizzy and nausious, and his skin tingled. In fact, his whole body felt like it had been jammed into an electrical outlet.

_'What had just happened?'_

He sensed that he was lying down in bed, but Miles could feel it was not **his** bed; it was big enough for someone four times his size, and the bedding was of unusually high quality. He opened his eyes: darkness. In an instant, his natural night vision kicked in, and the Mobian fox could now see his surroundings. At least, he could see the ceiling. He saw a window, but the stars were totally alien to him, and they appeared to be moving. He tried lifting himself up, but a sharp pain pierced his skull, and his muscles burned in protest. _Pain_. The room seemed to swirl around him, and Miles "Tails" Prower drifted back into unconsciousness.

In his dreams, Miles saw himself fighting against Dr. Robotnik. _Alone_. It was six years ago, back during Team Sonic's visit to Planet Earth. He had just disarmed the 50-megaton-yield nuclear missile that threatened to destroy Station Square. Miles was only eight years old then, but he had to stop Robotnik. _Alone_. This was the pivotal moment in his life. No one was there to help him. No one was there to save him. It was just Robotnik and a tiny lump of orange fur that was scared out of his mind, despite his proclamations to the contrary. _Alone_. Miles remembered charging Robotnik's "Egg Walker" battle mech. He remembered trying to body-slam the cockpit, only to be electrocuted by the mech's electroplasmic shielding. He remembered the machine's flamethrowers stripping the fur from his skin. He remembered the bullets from the machine guns ripping through his flesh. Miles remembered dodging the hundreds of missiles hurled his direction, only to be knocked flat by their shockwaves. He remembered how raining bits of burning buildings and exploded cars fell on him, and how many times he was nearly squashed when the "Egg Walker" tried to step on him in the city streets. But for all his pain, for all the pieces of his body that were missing, for all the blood he lost, Miles remembered something else.

He won.

For all of his engineering genius, Dr. Robotnik often overlooked important details. His "Egg Walker" battle mech was no exception. Near the machine's "ankles" were bits of weakly armored circuitry that occasionally left themselves exposed after a "stomp attack". His shredded body was failing him, but Miles knew that was where **he** must strike. Miles focused all of his naturally-generated Chaos energy into his twin tails - his namesakes - and flattened them into razor-edged ribbons. Sharper than any sword crafted by Human or Mobian hands, Miles' Chaos-enhanced tails cut true, and the "Egg Walker" fell to the ground. And for all of two seconds - the shield was down. Miles speared the cockpit with his tails, severing vital systems, and the "Eggman" was forced to flee his battle mech before it's power core detonated. Thrown aside by the blast, Miles lay in the middle of Main Street in a puddle of his own blood. Happy in the knowledge that he had saved Station Square, the fox waited for death to take him.

But death never came.

Miles had awoken in a full body cast in an undamaged hospital, surrounded by grateful Humans he alone had saved. The police had tried to stop them, but the mob of people wouldn't hear of it. They wanted to see their savior. One Human stood out: a young girl in a wheelchair named Helen. She actually had a Power Ring in her possession. Few people knew of their significance, and only Chaos wielders like Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles could actually use them. His limbs useless, Miles couldn't take it from her, so the girl placed it in his mouth. Instantly, the Power Ring flashed and was gone, and Miles' whole body glowed gold with raw Chaos energy. The body cast burned away, and the worst of Miles' injuries were healed. The crowd cheered at the momentary spectacle, and praised him for his heroism. Yes, **he** was a hero that day. Miles "Tails" Prower was now a hero, even if only thirty inches tall and eight years in the making. Sonic the Hedgehog, his best friend and older "brother" would be proud of him. And it wasn't the last time Miles put his life in jeopardy to save the people he cared about. He remembered the time-

_**CRASH!**_

A sudden jolt re-awoke Miles from his dreams. An alien alarm blared in his ears, and his bed bucked and heaved beneath him. Still dazed and disoriented, Miles tried to get up, but another jolt sent him sailing to the floor. Using his twin tails as counterbalances, Miles finally got to his feet. Outside the window, strange craft whizzed about, and colorful streaks of energy pulsed from their frames. His whole room shook, and the teenage fox fell to the floor once more. Clawing his way back to his bed, Miles shook the last of the cobwebs from his brain.

"What on Mobius... am I... on a _spaceship_?!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Tails of the Old Republic**  
Chapter 002

* * *

"What on Mobius... am I... on a _spaceship_?!"

At that moment, the room's lights decided to snap on, overloading Miles' natural night vision. He winced at the discomfort, but his eyes quickly re-adjusted. The room was extremely minimalistic, consisting only of bunk beds and various footlockers. Miles also saw just how naked he was. Mobian society regarded one's hands and feet to be the most sensitive and private regions of the body - which was why nearly every sapient Mobian wore shoes and gloves - while covering one's legs and torso were generally optional and left to the discretion of the individual. Miles was totally bare. Another heave of the floor brought his mind back to more important matters, and this time the boy kept his balance, lashing his tails as counterweights.

With a sudden click and mechanical whooshing noise, a large portion of the wall opened up, much to Miles' shock. He silently cursed himself for not realizing that was a bulkhead door. A tall man in bright orange uniform came running toward the fox, and Miles bristled at just what this tall man was.

_'He's a Human!'_

Not knowing whether this man intended to help him or kill him, Miles immediately scrunched into a defensive posture, brandishing his twin tails like scorpion stingers. The man *was* brandishing some sort of firearm, after all.

"Easy, lad; I'm on your side! We've just been ambushed by a Sith battle fleet! The _Endar Spire_ is under attack! Hurry up, we don't have much time!"

"Wha-what? _Endar Spire_? Who are you!?" the Mobian asked the Human.

"I'm Trask Ulgo, ensign with the Republic Fleet! I'm your bunk mate here on the _Endar Spire_. We work opposite shifts; I guess that's why you've never seen me before," the tall man responded. The floor jostled harshly. "Now, hurry up; we've got to find Bastila! We must ensure she gets off the ship alive!" Trask certainly looked serious.

"Bastlia? Just who is Bastila, and why is she so important?" Miles was annoyed and confused, but genuinely concerned for this female's safety.

"Did you just hit your head, boy? Bastila is the commanding officer on the _Endar Spire_! Well, not an officer, really. But she's the one in charge of this mission! One of our primary duties is to guarentee her survival in the event of an enemy attack. You swore an oath just like everyone else on this mission! Now it's time to make good on that oath!"

_'I did? When?! What's "the Republic"? Who are "the Sith"? Why am I on a spaceship?! Just yesterday I was back on Mobius! ...Wasn't I?'_

"I've heard what everyone's been saying about you," the tall man Trask continued. "You've traveled the farthest reaches of the galaxy; you've visited planets I've never even heard of! People with your skills and abilities are hard to find; it's no wonder the Republic recruited you for this mission! But now, it's time you to prove yourself, boy!"

Miles didn't know how to respond to all that. He *did* hit his head on his first fall to the floor, but he somehow doubted that explained his current cluelessness.

"Look, I know you're a scout and not a soldier," Trask went on, "but Bastila needs all troops at her side during this attack! So hurry up and get your gear! MOVE!"

"A-all right, let's go find Bastila!" Miles didn't know whether he could really trust this Human or not, but he sensed no deception from him, so he decided to comply. The floor bucked again, and he stumbled back to his bunk and what he presumed was *his* footlocker.

Graciously, it was unlocked. Fumbling with an alien locking mechanism when he was supposed to know what he was doing would have been unbearably awkward. Its contents were packed by what had to be a neat-freak, presumably himself. He found white pairs of combat boots and work gloves, some orange pants with a tail-hole, a tank top, a suit of polymer armor, a small electronic headset with a semi-transparent eyepiece (which was conveniently constructed to fit _his_ skull), and what had to be and energy pistol. _Screw the shirt and armor_, Miles thought, donning everything else. Surprisingly it all fit him, if a bit loosely. Fully clothed by his own Mobian standards, Miles turned to face Trask.

"What about-" Trask began.

"Ensign Ulgo, I am FAR more concerned with my tactical agility than some puny suit of armor. Believe me, I know better!" Miles wasn't trying to sound like a wise-ass, but he suspected that's how it came out.

_'Oops.'_

"OK, let's move out!" Trask replied, unaffected. "We should stick together; we'll have more success as a team than on our own!"

"Agreed," the fox answered. Actually, he wasn't too sure about that. On Earth, the Humans proved to be ineffective fighters, especially during the Black Arms invasion. Miles didn't care for guns, but he gripped his pistol anyway. He had learned that he *had* to be more flexible in his combat styles in order to keep up with Sonic and Knuckles, and especially Shadow. Miles shuddered. The raw power of that black hedgehog terrified the adolescent fox. Shadow's natural Chaos affinity was unmatched. Miles "Tails" Prower doubted he could last three minutes against him, if the two became enemies. And Shadow, he last remembered, was becoming dangerously psychotic.

The room shook violently, and three light fixtures exploded in a spray of sparks. Suddenly, the bulkhead door slammed shut.

"This bulkhead's in lockdown! But don't worry, I've got the override codes to re-open it!"

Miles figured he could slice the door open himself with a pair of Chaos-imbued tails, but he let the Human handle it his way. With a few button pushes, the bulkhead whizzed open again.

"Let's go!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Tails of the Old Republic**  
Chapter 003

* * *

"Let's go!"

The Human and Mobian ran down the hall at what Miles considered a snail's pace. Trask was panting and sweating like a pig, but the twin-tailed fox wasn't exherting himself at all, despite the fact his legs were half as long as Trask's. Miles was simply too used to racing with Sonic.

Suddenly, Miles' headset chimed, and the image of another frantic Human appeared on the bluish eyepiece. Both Trask and Tails stopped running.

"This is Carth Onasi. The Sith are threatening to overrun our position; we can't hold out much longer against their firepower! All hands to the bridge!"

"That was Carth contacting us on our portable communicators," Trask explained. "He's one of the Republic's best pilots! He's seen more combat than the rest of the Endar Spire's crew put together! If **he** says things are bad, you better believe it!"

"All right, so what do we do?" Miles asked.

"We have to get to the bridge to help defend Bastila! There's a schematic of the _Endar Spire_ and a copy of Carth's message stored in your electronic headset, just in case we get separated!"

"Okay, let's move out!" Miles declared, more confidently than before.

Miles "Tails" Prower shot down the corridor even faster, leaving Trask struggling to keep up. Tails suppressed a chuckle; he was just running with his legs; he wasn't even using his tails for assistance - or flying. The duo came to another sealed bulkhead. The young Mobian let Trask unlock it.

The bulkhead door whizzed open to a firefight. A soldier in orange armor took an energy bolt to the chest and fell to the floor, and two soldiers in silver armor trained their weapons onto Tails, who just happened to be their next target. Tails gasped and backflipped behind the bulkhead. Energy pulses streaked past where he had just been standing.

_'Those guys are trying to KILL me!'_ thought the adolescent fox.

"These Sith must be the advance boarding party," Trask exclaimed. "FOR THE REPUBLIC!"

While Trask crouched behind the bulkhead and fired upon the invaders, Miles fumbled with his own weapon.

Something clicked inside Miles' mind.

The enemies beyond the around the corner, fully armored from head to toe, resembled faceless machines. The fox's self-preservation instincts were already on high alert, and like a computer, he quickly calculated his most efficient way to neutralize the threat.

_'Okay, Miles, you can do this! Eyes down-range, finger on the trigger, squeeze, don't pull. Ready, GO!'_

"Tails" the fox exploded from behind the bulkhead, rebounded off the opposite wall, and sailed over his attackers. Stunned at his agility, the two silver-armored goons were too slow to raise their blasters. Once, twice; Tails squeezed the trigger. The boy winced at the result. Two dead bodies thudded against the deck, and Miles resisted the urge to vomit. Miles was so used to destroying rampaging robots, he didn't actually *think* about killing those soldiers.

_'What have I done... I took their lives!'_ he thought with horror.

But Miles pushed those thoughts aside. He knew there was going to be a lot more death before he and Trask got off this ship.

"Great Force alive! I've never seen anybody move so fast! Not even a Jedi!" Trask gasped.

Tails refrained from asking what a _Jedi_ was.

"Just... _who are you?_"

"Miles Prower," replied the Mobian, finally collecting his wits. "But just call me Tails."

"Alright... Tails. We need to hurry!"

Tails just nodded.

The next several corridors were badly damaged from either weapon fire, ruptured power conduits, or both. Blood and bodies littered the floor, making Tails feel ill. Back on Mobius, Dr. Robotnik had massacred his people by the millions, and much of the planet had been reduced to smoking ruin. Tails had often fantasized about killing Robotnik with his own teeth and claws... but seeing all these dead Humans _chilled him to his soul_.

"Tails, are you OK? I know you're not used to front line combat, but-"

"It's... nothing. I'm... fine. Really." lied the fourteen-year-old.

Through the next bulkhead door, a massive battle was raging; at least twenty soldiers were engaged. Blaster fire flew in all directions, and various knives and cutting weapons were brought into play. The soldiers in orange armor - the Republic soldiers - were being overwelmed. Miles lay down covering fire with deadly accuracy, and Trask lobbed three frag grenades. The Mobian tried not to look at the resulting carnage.

Trask barked commands to the surviving friendlies, and then he and Tails continued on their way. None of the survivors were in any shape to follow.

The two allies plowed through the next several corridors, when they encountered a sight to behold. Two individuals, a female dressed in yellow-gold robes, and a male clad in dark gray robes with light armor were exchanging blows with what looked like glowing swords! No, not just _glowing swords_; the blades appeared to be made of pure energy!

"A Dark Jedi! Get back, Tails! This fight is too much for us; we'd only get in the way!" Trask's voice was deadly serious. At least Tails now had an idea what a "Jedi" was.

The male and female duelists, wielding red and blue energy blades, respectively, moved like lightning. Tails could barely track their motions, even with his superior perception. Swing and dodge, thrust and parry, the two duelists fought with unmatched grace and tenacity. Their weapons seemed to burn deep gashes into whatever they touched. Finally, the male fighter was knocked off balance.

And was immediately sliced in half.

Miles stared in both shock and awe, mouth agape. Exhausted, the female deactivated her weapon and knelt on one knee, panting. The fox saw the power conduit behind her spark and sputter.

"LADY, BEHIND YOU!" Tails shouted at the top of his lungs.

Too late, the woman turned too see what he meant. The power conduit ruptured, and the entire corridor was engulfed in flames. The force of the explosion knocked Tails onto his backside.

"NO!" Trask exclaimed, peeling himself off the bulkhead. "That was one of the Jedi tasked with guarding Bastila! Damn it, we could have used her help!"

Tails bared his fangs. "Come on, the bridge is close!"

At last, when the bulkhead door to the bridge whizzed open, Tails and Trask were fired upon by at least fifteen Sith troopers. Trask leapt behind a computer console, and Tails bounded behind a holographic view screen, hoping the shifting patterns would obscure a clean shot. Trask clutched his shoulder; he was hit. Tails threw down his pistol.

"_What_ are you _doing?!_" Trask shouted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Tails of the Old Republic**  
Chapter 004

* * *

"_What_ are you _doing?!_" Trask shouted.

Tails didn't answer. The adolescent fox stretched out his namesakes, both of which began glowing faintly golden-yellow. The air crackled between them, and they both suddenly flattened into living blades. In his mind, Tails already plotted his course. Like a hand compressing a metal coil spring, Tails scrunched himself into a ball. Trask lay down covering fire, but couldn't score any hits. The silver-armored Sith momentarily forgot about the little orange furball, and turned their attention to the wounded Republic soldier.

That instant, Tails struck. Like a bolt of greased lightning, Miles Prower shot between the Sith troops, bouncing off consoles, chairs, walls and support columns, whipping his tails about all the while. Tails made a complete arc around the bridge, zig-zagging to, from, and around the hapless goons. The Mobian did not employ great force into his strikes; rather, he delicately nipped at his opponents' forms, his living weapons slicing through their armor like so much tissue paper. In less than four seconds, the fifteen Sith soldiers occupying the bridge were either dead or incapacitated. Tails landed were Trask was crouching. His twin tails returned to normal: soft and poofy.

Trask's mouth hung open, totally speechless. He eyed the blood dribbling off of Tails' tails.

Outwardly, the adolescent fox put on a mask of serenity, but inside, his heart was _shattering_. He couldn't believe he had just been party to the violent deaths of several dozen people. Yes, they were all trying to kill him, but the reality of his actions horrified him. Never before had he been thrust into a situation when he had to kill his way out. He had always been aware of the destructive force he commanded, but he had always used it against Robotnik's machines - not living people!

"Bastila isn't here," Tails remarked. "Neither is Carth; we'd better find a means of escape before our enemies outside turn this ship into space debris. How's your shoulder? Can you move?"

Trask gulped, and got to his feet. He looked... _afraid_ of the boy. "H-h-how?"

Tails sighed. "It's called Chaos. I'm a Chaos wielder, like many of my friends on Mobius. Now come on, we probably don't have any time to spare!"

"R-right, there should be escape pods just beyond that starboard bulkhead!"

"Good. I'll take point."

_'Or rather, continue taking point'_, Tails thought to himself. Despite not being familiar with *any* of his surroundings, Tails had stayed slightly in front of his Human ally this whole time. Was he really trying to shield Trask? Perhaps, but it's not like the six-foot-tall hominid could hide behind the four-foot-tall vulpimorph. The young Mobian desperately tried to keep his mind off the lives he had just snuffed out, but it proved impossible. He kept remembering all the dead friends he had failed to protect...

They hurried through the next set of hallways, though with Trask's injury, it was more like a brisk walk. Several Sith troopers attacked them; Tails cut down each one. They paced down a long corridor, when Tails stopped abrubtly at an adjacent bulkhead door.

"What's wrong, Tails?" Trask asked nervously.

"There... is something behind here. I feel... a huge concentration of Chaos energy behind this door!"

Unthinking, Tails reached up and touched the override switch. The bulkhead flew open, and a Human clad in an obsidian black robes, a head taller than Trask, smirked wickedly.

"Yikes!"

"Damn! Another Dark Jedi!"

"Well, what do we have here? A wounded Republic rat, and a furry little freakshow! Allow my lightsaber to end your misery!"

Without warning, the Dark Jedi's weapon activated, and a crimson blade eminated from _both ends_ of the hilt, and the black-clad Human bolted towards Tails, aiming to decapitate him.

Tails _almost_ didn't react in time. The Mobian fox fell over backwards, twisting away from the energy blade. He lost five whiskers, and the entire left side of his face felt hot. Seeing a narrow opening, Tails jabbed the man in the ribs with his elbow.

"OOF; how the HELL did you avoid that?!" the Dark Jedi roared furiously.

Miles Prower cursed silently as the man lunged at him again, twirling his weapon at blinding speed. It took **every** ounce of mental concentration for Tails to dodge his swings and thrusts. Tails could _not_ use his twin appendages to attack, either; he **had** to employ them as counterbalances in order to evade properly. The boy ducked, jumped, twisted, twirled, spun, curled, kicked, fell, rolled, leapt, bounded, bolted, flipped, and writhed every which-way in a futile effort to keep himself in one piece. Once, twice, _thrice_ Tails was nicked by the Dark Jedi's lightsaber, leaving black stripes were fur and flesh used to be. Not _once_ did the Human leave an opening the adolescent Mobian could exploit. Tails knew he was losing.

_'Sonic... help me!'_

"Hold still, you mutant freak!"

Suddenly, the Human thrust a palm in Tails' direction, and an invisible wall of energy smashed into the boy's chest with the force of a high-speed truck. Tails felt his ribs implode.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"

The force of the energy wave caused the ninety-pound fox to sail across the corridor before crashing into a sealed bulkhead. Completely winded, Tails collapsed onto the deck, blood gushing from his nose and mouth. He couldn't move.

"Well, that takes care of you, fox-boy! Now where'd that rat-"

Two incindiary grenades rolled right under the Jedi.

"Oh, SH-"

The grenades detonated, and the dark-robed Human was engulfed in flames as he flew several feet. His face became an emergency brake, and he lay momentarily stunned.

Trask hobbled over to where Tails lay and picked the Mobian up in his arms. Trask's shoulder burned in protest.

"Come on, son! You're not dead yet! We're getting the hell out of here!" Trask declared. Tails only gurgled, then erupted into a fit of coughing and wheezing.

Trask ran as fast as his legs could carry him, Tails slung over his good shoulder. He was just about to turn into the next open bulkhead, when a powerful gust of wind swept him off his feet. Trask fell on his arse, and Tails landed on top of him.

"Leaving so soon? I THINK NOT!"

A somewhat burnt Jedi sped towards them, double-bladed lightsaber ready for a killing stroke. Trask panicked and became paralyzed with fright; Tails had re-gathered enough of his marbles to realize what was about to happen. Unable to think of a better solution, Tails collected **all** of his remaining Chaos energy and channeled it into his tails.

The Sith swordsman swung with all his might, but a Chaos-imbued tail rose to intercept the blow, the other plunged into the floor as an anchor. Sparks sprayed in every direction as the Dark Jedi's lightsaber reacted violently with the raw Chaos energy flowing through Tails' tail. _He was actually parrying the lightsaber!_

The stench of charred meat and cooked fur filled the Mobian's nostrils, and he could feel his tail going numb. Thrusting to one side, Tails managed to knock the saberstaff out of the Jedi's hands. Leaping onto the man's torso, Tails began pummeling the man's face with his fists. The Dark Jedi fell on his backside, and tried to claw the fox off of him with one hand, and reached across the floor for his fallen lightsaber with the other.

Miles felt a hand grab him by the scruff of his neck.

"Wha...? HEY!"

Trask Ulgo immediate tossed the boy through the open bulkhead.

"Tails, find the escape pods! I'll hold him off as long as I can! I've seen the true potential you have; you will be FAR more valuable to the Republic than I ever could be! Now, go! Find Bastila! Guard her with your life!"

"No, Trask don't! NOOOOOOOO!"

With that, Trask sealed the bulkhead and busted the control panel. Pulling a concealed shortsword out of his armor, he turned to face his opponent. By this time, the Dark Jedi had already retrieved his lightsaber.

"Come and get some, Sith scumbag!"

On the other side of the bulkhead, Tails pounded the door, weeping angrily.

"No! No, no, no, NO! I've failed... I failed again! I failed... to protect him..."

Tails headset chimed again, and the same man as before appeared on the eyepiece.

"Miles Prower, can you hear me? This is Carth Onasi. I'm tracking you through the Endar Spire's life support monitors. You are the only other Republic soldier left alive on this ship. Bastila has already escaped, and now there is only one functional escape pod remaining. I can't hold out much longer! You must hurry to my coordinates with all speed, or I with have no choice but to leave you behind! Please, Miles, hurry! You're nearly here!"

Miles "Tails" Prower wiped the tears from his face and limped to Carth's coordinates as fast as his broken body would let him.

After what seemed an eternity, he made it.

"You've arrived! Come on, this ship is about to be blown to smithereens, and that pod is our only ticket out of here! We can hide out on the planet below for a while. Come on!"

Carth sort of shoved the battered Mobian into the escape pod. With a considerable _bang_, the pod shot out from the ship just as the Endar Spire blossomed into a raging inferno and exploded. The last thing Miles remembered was the shockwave hitting the pod.


	5. Chapter 5

**Tails of the Old Republic**  
Chapter 005

* * *

Miles Prower awoke from a nightmare. The images of the soldiers he had slain aboard the _Endar Spire_ - and those he saw slain - haunted him. It had been years since he had been forced to kill another sapient being, and even if those other beings were not Mobian, they were still people. The thought of it unnerved him, and he was glad he never saw any of the Sith soldiers' faces. And yet, weren't those troops trying to _kill_ him? Would he even be _alive_ right now, had he not fought to defend himself? Miles wondered what Sonic would have done in his situation.

Would Sonic the Hedgehog, hero of Planet Mobius, have actually _killed_ in order to save his skin? To his knowledge, Sonic had never, _ever_, killed anyone before. Why would he need to? Sonic was so freaking fast, he could dodge lasers all day long and actually get bored doing it. Sonic could have, would have, simply ran circles, squares, and triangles around his attackers, taunt them, make fun of their incompetence, insult them, infuriate them, and then knock them out cold. At the very worst, Sonic would have made them shoot each other, and it would have been purely accidental and unintentional. But...

Miles wasn't Sonic.

Miles "Tails" Prower would never have Sonic's raw speed or tactical agility; he would never have Knuckles' brute strength or endurance; he would never have Shadow's obscenely powerful Chaos affinity. Yes, Tails was fast. Yes, Tails was strong. Yes, Tails was a powerful Chaos user. But he never truly excelled in any one attribute.

In order to keep up with the other three heroes (assuming one actually counted Shadow as a "hero"), Tails had to rely on his wits and maintain both a strategic and tactical superiority over his opponents. The fact that Tails was also an engineering progeny on par with Dr. Robotnik went a long way to close the gap.

Looking around, Tails saw he was in some sort of cheap hotel or apartment. Sunlight shone faintly through an open window. His body ached, and he saw that he was covered with bandages. Tails delicately probed his ribs; they hurt on contact, but they didn't feel broken anymore. Slowly, Tails got up and climbed out of his oversized bed.

He nearly lost his balance, and the boy realized he couldn't feel one of his tails. The tail that had parried the lightsaber was very much intact, but felt numb and lifeless. Gently removing the bandage that had been wrapped around it, he saw the horrific damage done to his tail. Where the lightsaber had struck, only a charred ruin remained. Tails gasped, and sincerely hoped his namesake would heal. That, or hope he'd find a Power Ring.

Tails spotted a full-size mirror near his bed, and removing the remaining bandages, he could see the full extent of the damage inflicted on his body. Not three, but _six_ black stripes had seared his form, and he was covered with bruises and other scratches. Miles' entire body was a criss-crossed circuit board of old scars, some older than his battle with the "Egg Walker". These new ones would simply add to his decoration. For some odd reason, Miles always got beat up more than Sonic, Knuckles, or Shadow ever did. At least it made him look tougher.

Sighing, Tails looked around for a bathroom. He needed to relieve himself, and he hoped he could take a shower. Hobbling over to a door that looked promising, he touched what looked like a control pad, and with a faint hiss, the door opened and revealed the facilities he wanted.

The hot shower was as painful as it was invigorating. The detergent was harsh, and his shower brush threatened to re-open his wounds. Soot, grime, dried blood, and loose fur were flushed down the drain. Touching a button, he was blasted by warm, dry air that quickly evaporated the moisture that clung to him. Tails felt like a new Mobian, if somewhat burnt and banged up. The boy tugged on his cranial fur, and three long bangs now bobbed over his face.

Tails strode past the mirror again, and stopped. The creature in the mirror stared back at him. The boy could _still_ hardly recognize himself. Two years ago, he was thirty inches tall and weighed about twenty-five pounds. Today, he was _fifty_ inches tall and weighed about _ninety-nine_ pounds. His chest was now thicker than his waist, and wiry lean muscle was now clearly visible under his short, dense, orange-and-white fur. Tails doubted even five percent of his body weight was fat.

His twin tails had grown the most. In less than two years, his tails had _quadrupled_ in length, and were now more than eight feet long, twice as long as the boy was tall! Tails' muzzle had also lengthened considerably, and his parabolic ears now were just plain huge, almost fennec-like. Miles didn't realize that crossing into puberty would cause such a radical transformation to his body, and it certainly shocked everyone he had grown up with. Tails smiled. He figured he was already bigger and taller than any other fox on Mobius, and he was only fourteen!

Despite his new, visible adolescent musculature, Tails was by no means _bulky_. He was still "thin" from an outsider's point of view, and the boy still had very "Mobian" proportions. But, no longer was he the chubby, noodle-limbed child of yesteryear!

Between ages eight and twelve, Tails didn't grow all that much, but after his twelfth birthday, the Mobian fox grew like a weed on commercial fertilizer. He wasn't done growing yet, either, but the pace of his growth had slowed considerably after his initial eighteen-month spurt. He was now taller than all of his friends, even Sonic. In fact, only Vector the Crocodile was still taller, and only by a hairsbreadth. Vector, Mighty, Knuckles, and Shadow were now the only ones still physically stronger than he was, despite three of them being shorter. Tails was now matched Sonic's strength perfectly.

Of course, Tails was positive Sonic could still beat the crap out of him, if they ever seriously fought each other. Sonic was just too ridiculously fast.

Naturally, adolescence brought with it various negative traits, as well. Tails got angry a lot easier than before, and often had verbally chewed out his close friends over some petty slight. He even punched Sonic in the face once over some stupid disagreement they had. He hated that, and felt ashamed of it, even though he felt Sonic deserved it. Tails was just finding it harder to keep his emotions under control when people pushed his buttons.

More problematic was this pugnacious sex drive Tails had acquired. His more... _hormonal_ responses to the females around him had caught him off guard. The fourteen year old fox was still a virgin in all possible definitions of the word, but if Tails let his mind wander, he would invariably start thinking about girls.

The fact that all the girls he knew were older and fully "developed" didn't help much. The fact they were all _prey_ species like hedgehogs, rabbits, mice, and squirrels played havok with his brain. Thus, Tails tried to avoid females as much as possible. Unfortunately, the war against Robotnik and his mechanical hordes made interacting with members of the opposite sex mandatory. Further complicating his dilemma was the fact that various females had begun _courting_ his attention, and none of them were canine. Tails' hormones made his brain hurt.

Miles Prower shook his head, jostling unclean thoughts out of his mind.

_'Focus, Miles...'_

The boy rummaged through a banged-up footlocker beside his bed. He found new pairs of combat boots and work gloves - these ones a two-tone brown and black instead of plain white - and immediate slipped them on. He hated being naked. They fit comfortably; the cuffs of the gloves nearly came up to his elbows, and the tops of the boots nearly came up to his knees. There was other clothing in the locker, but Tails wasn't too interested in wearing more than he had to: Human-style clothing irritated his fur, and always left him uncomfortably warm.

Walking over to the window, Tails peered outside. He was at least thirty stories off the ground in a city he had never seen before. A numberless multitude of flying craft whizzed about in a semi-orderly fashion.

_'No way... that this could be Earth!'_ Tails thought to himself.

A half-million questions bombarded Tails' mind. Where was he? Why was he here? When did he leave Mobius? _Why_ did he leave Mobius? Did he really join this "Republic"? Why did he join it? Why was he serving as a scout and/or soldier within it? Who were the "Sith", and why were they enemies of the Republic? Who were these powerful Chaos wielders who called themselves the "Jedi"? How were the Humans involved in all this? When did the Humans expand beyond Earth and the Sol System? Were the Humans the primary species within this Republic, or only a marginal influence? Did this Mobian fall into some sort of time warp? Was he now in an alternate universe or timeline? Did Mobius even exist in this universe? Could he ever go back? Would he ever see Sonic and his friends again?

_'Why can't I remember anything?!'_

The room was silent.

Sighing and shaking his head, Tails walked back to his bed and sat cross-legged on top of it. He stared blankly at his sheets. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, Tails could actually _think_. All the commotion aboard the _Endar Spire_ forbade him from _thinking_. Tails reflected upon his limited memory of that ship. He pondered his interactions with Trask Ulgo, and how compliant he had been with the ensign's orders. He thought about the soldiers he killed, and how they had tried to kill _him_. Tails' brain stared hurting. Introspection was never his favorite activity.

The fox attempted moving his injured tail, but it only twitched pathetically. At least it responded!

That moment, Tails' ears picked up someone outside the main door, and he readied himself for action. The door clicked and whizzed open.

It was Carth.

"Oh, you're up!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Tails of the Old Republic**  
Chapter 006

* * *

"Oh, you're up!"

Tails relaxed. Mostly. Carth Onasi was lugging several duffel bags worth of stuff, which he deposited on the room's central table. The main door locked shut. The Human was no longer wearing his orange Republic jumpsuit, but had apparently donned some dark gray pants, a black shirt, and a kind of brownish-gold long-sleeve jacket.

"How long have you been awake?" Carth asked politely.

"Um, about half an hour, I guess. I just got out of the shower about ten minutes ago. How long have I been out?"

"Nearly a week," Carth answered. "You got seriously thrashed when we landed, kid, and you took a nasty blow to the head. You've been slipping in and out of consciousness the past couple days. Sounded like you were having some hellish dreams, too. But I'm glad you're all right, now."

Tails scratched his cranium. "Depends on what you mean by, 'all right'. My brains feel like scrambled eggs right now," Tails responded truthfully.

"I'll give you a few hours to adjust; judging by those wounds of yours, you saw a lot of action aboard the _Endar Spire_ before she blew up. Speaking of food, I brought breakfast."

Carth opened up one of his duffel bags, and produced several large plastic containers and other dishware. He quickly washed his hands and set the small circular table, and motioned for Tails to sit across from him. Positively starving, Tails complied.

"I hope you don't think I'm stereotyping you," the Human said, "but I figured you were more of a carnivorous type, so I bought your food accordingly. Enjoy."

Tails opened his food containers, and nearly drowned in his own saliva. The main course was a three-pound steak and several eggs of unknown species, sided by a large tuber resembling a sweet potato, and garnished with an assortment of random vegetables. The savory aromas assaulted Tails' olfactory nerves, and he gurgled in delight. His drink was some sort of fruit juice.

Carth simply had a bowl of hot cereal topped with some unidentifiable fruit.

"Well, don't just stare at it..."

The Mobian had to restrain his impulse to tear into his food like some wild animal. He forced himself to behave civilized, and he used the provided utensils. Still, Tails devoured it all in about five minutes. Leaning back into his chair, the fox let his tongue flop out the side of his mouth, and his stomach felt tight as a drumskin. It's been _so long_ since he last had a full meal...

"Well damn, I didn't think you were _that_ hungry. Remind me to keep you fed; I don't want you gnawing my arm off in my sleep," Carth remarked with a wry grin.

Tails just laughed.

Carth collected the used dishes and tossed them down a recycling chute. Tails recovered himself and cleaned up his face with several napkins. After a few minutes, Tails sat on his bed as before, while Carth sat on a nearby chair, looking a bit more serious than he was earlier.

"I don't think we've properly introduced ourselves, yet. My name is Carth Onasi, one of the Republic soldiers from the _Endar Spire_. I was with you on the escape pod, do you remember?"

Tails nodded. "I'm Miles Prower, but everyone just calls me "Tails" after my twin tails here. And yes, I remember escaping the spaceship with you. You were the one on my headset, telling me about the last escape pod. Where are we, exactly, and how did we get here?"

Carth shifted, and glanced at the main door leading outside.

"We're in an abandoned apartment on the planet of Taris. You were banged up and bleeding pretty badly when our escape pod crashed, but luckily I wasn't seriously hurt. I was able to drag you away in all the confusion, and I stumbled onto this place. By the time the Sith arrived on the scene, we were long gone. We're safe now, at least for the moment."

"I guess... I owe you my life, then. Thanks."

"There's no need to thank me;" Carth replied. "I've never abandoned anyone on a mission, and I'm not about to start now. Besides, I'm going to need your help."

"Somehow, I take it the Republic isn't going to just swoop in and rescue us, huh?" the fox guessed.

Carth huffed and shook his head. "Taris is now under Sith control. Their fleet is orbiting the planet, they've declared martial law, and they've imposed a planet-wide quarentine: no one gets in or out. But I've been in worse spots. However, there is just no way the Republic is going to be able to launch a rescue mission right now. _No one_ is getting through that blockade."

Tails simply digested that information, along with his breakfast.

Carth continued, "I saw on your service records that you understand a remarkable number of alien languages. That's pretty rare in a raw recruit, but it should come in handy while we're stranded on a foreign world. If we're going to find Basila and get off this rock, we can't rely on anybody but ourselves."

_'Well, I *did* visit a lot of planets during the Metarex Crisis, so I *do* know many alien tongues, but SHEESH these guys are laying it on thick...'_

"Bastlila?" Tails chimed. "She's the one from the _Endar Spire_, right? Why is she so important?"

"Wow, that smack to your head did more damage than I thought. Bastila is a _Jedi_. She was with the strike team that killed Darth Revan, Malak's Sith master."

_'Bastila. Jedi. Chaos user. Okay...'_

"Bastila is the key to the whole Republic war effort. The Sith must have found out she was on the _Endar Spire_ and set up an ambush in this system. Ugh, we should have had more ships guarding her, but no one was supposed to _know_ she was even there. Anyway, I believe Bastila is was on one of the escape pods that crashed down here. For the sake of the Republic war effort, we have to try and find her!"

"All right, I understand," Tails responded, "but how can one person - even a Jedi - be so important?"

"Bastila is no ordinary Jedi," Carth explained. "She has a rare gift the Jedi call 'Battle Meditation' that can influence entire armies. Through the Force, Bastila can inspire her allies with confidence, and make her enemies lose their will to fight. Often, that's all it takes to tip the balance in a battle."

_'The "Force"? What is that? Is it related to Chaos?'_

"Of course, there are limits to what she can do," the Human continued. "But from what I understand of her ability, it takes great concentration and focus to maintain her Battle Meditation. The attack on the _Endar Spire_ happened so fast that Bastila had no time to use her ability. Like us, she barely got out of there alive."

"OK. So what do you suggest we do next?" Tails asked, wanting to help.

Carth sighed. "Bastila is going to need our help. Many of Darth Malak's followers can use the dark side of the Force, and the Sith have already killed their share of Jedi in this war. Nobody will be looking for a couple of common soldiers like us. As you can see, I've already ditched my Republic uniform for ordinary civilian clothes. If we're careful, we can move about the planet without attracting any notice, a luxury Bastila won't have. Bastila will have half the Sith fleet looking for her; they know how important she is to this war. With the whole planet under quarentine, no ships can land or leave. So if Bastila's going to escape Taris, she is going to need our help. And, we'll probably need hers."

"Alrighty. Any idea where we should start looking?" the young Mobian asked.

The boy bounded off his bed and landed in the middle of the room, but teetered precariously on his legs. He nearly fell on his face. He flailed his arms, trying to regain his balance. It was embarrassing.

"Perhaps we should wait a few more hours," Carth suggested. "You just came out of a coma barely an hour ago. Rest now, I don't need my right-hand man falling over himself when we least need it."

"It's not my _head_, but my _tail_," Tails countered. " This one is still... really hurt. It feels numb, and isn't responding to my commands very well. I'll be fine though, if I wrap both tails together..."

"I saw your tail. It was a mess, like it was stuck under a plasma torch. What happened to it? In fact, those six barbecue-stripes on your body, and that charred mess on your tail look an awful lot like-"

-_lightsaber wounds_, Carth mouthed silently. He just now figured it out.

"Did you... _ENGAGE_... a Dark Jedi on board the _Endar Spire?!_"

Tails groaned at the memory. "Yes," the Mobian replied. "Ensign Ulgo sacrificed his life in order to preserve mine. I would have been cut to pieces had he not intervened."

"Ensign Ulgo... Trask? You can confirm he's dead?"

Tails tried to keep his voice level. "Not exactly. I didn't see him die, but he tossed me through a bulkhead and engaged the Dark Jedi on his own. I think the end result would be easy to predict..."

"Dammit, Trask was a good friend of mine, and a good soldier! You and I were the last two Republic troops to leave alive, and I had hoped he had escaped prior to us."

Carth sighed in disgust. Tails stared at the floor.

"Well, I'm glad YOU are alive. Not many can tango with a Jedi in combat - dark side or otherwise - and live to tell about it. Sleep, now. We leave in six hours."

The plain-clothes Human vacated his seat and wandered over to the window, staring blankly at the morning sky.

Tails didn't show it, but the memory of his battle with the Dark Jedi, and the subsequent death of Trask, hurt him greatly. Tails had seen his life flash before his eyes on several occasions, but he had never been so decidedly crushed as he had been with that Sith duelist. Tails told the truth: if Trask had not intervened, the Mobian would have been chopped liver. Or mashed potatoes. Reflexively, Tails clutched his chest. The energy wave that had smashed into him had nearly crushed the life out of him. And the boy had drained ALL of his Chaos energy in parrying that lightsaber strike with his tail. The tail in question twitched in response.

Of all his emotions, feelings of helplessness, uselessness, and worthlessness hurt Miles the most. Even betrayal didn't hurt so damn much. Trask had to save him. Trask, a Human without the slightest trace of Chaos affinity, had to save _him_. Why? Because Tails was his ally. Trask was saving his comrade-in-arms. He counted Tails to be his _friend_.

_'And here's the stupid one who opened the bulkhead, and let the demon out of his cage!'_ Tails thought bitterly.

Tails sighed, and swept those thoughts under the proverbial rug. The memory exhausted him. Climbing back into his bed and tucking himself into a sphere, Miles Prower used one tail as a pillow, the other as a blanket. He now resembled a furry orange beach ball. Fully obscured from the outside world, Tails allowed himself to sleep.

Not that he actually slept long.

Tails had kept his senses on full alert, so his sleep had been shallow. After waking again, the Mobian unwrapped and uncurled himself, and found Carth snoozing on the bunk opposite of his own. A mere two hours had passed. He shook the cobwebs out of his brain, and slipped quietly out of his bed. His body ached significantly less now, and his burnt tail was responding more readily to his instructions. Tails could actually feel some of his Chaos energy trickling back now, much to his relief, even if it was only a tiny fraction. He felt exposed without it.

In the corner of their tiny apartment, Tails spotted some sort of workbench. Rummaging through his stuff, the boy located his electronic headset. Carth had been kind enough to clean the soot and blood off it. The workbench was calling him, and his inner engineer was begging to be let out. He literally bounced over to it.

Standing over the workbench, Tails plunked down the headset and fiddled with a variety of alien-looking tools. With his gloved hands, Tails chose the most likely device and pried the headset apart. The boy progeny whistled. The technology within it was so alien to him, so advanced - yet he instinctively knew what each component was for. He found the battery, the central processor, the system memory, and the data storage. Activating the eyepiece, Tails hijacked it as a TV screen so he could probe the headset's operating system. The Mobian fox was greeted by various alien symbols, but somehow understood their meaning. He initiated a graphical user interface to better explore the system.

The software was pretty basic - it was just a headset, after all, but the hardware capabilites were something else! Tails figured a Nicole-class AI could fit quite comfortably in the tiny device, and NICOLE was the most powerful AI on Mobius. If he could just figure out the hardware programming language, he could write his own AI...

Something on Carth's person suddenly beeped, and the Human started stirring. Tails looked at the window; the sunbeam coming through had shifted considerably. Had four hours passed already?! Tails was so absorbed into his activity that he completely lost track of time. He carefully reassembled the headset, wishing he had more time to play with the technology. Not even Dr. Robotnik could have invented this stuff...

"You already up?" Carth asked, collecting himself.

"Yeah. I didn't sleep much, but I feel much better now."

"That's good. What are you doing over there?"

"Tinkering. 'All I'm really good at'," Tails replied, referencing a certain knuckle-headed echidna.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind."

Tails finished putting the headset back together, and he latched it around his left ear. It was light as a feather, and he barely felt it. The bluish, semi-transparent eyepiece began streaming various bits of tactical data.

"I presume you have a plan regarding Bastila's rescue and our escape from this planet?" Tails asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Carth checked his belongings and stood by the window again.

"While you were out of it, I did some scouting around. There are reports of a couple of escape pods crashing down into the Undercity; that's probably a good place to start. But the Undercity of Taris is a dangerous place, and we don't want to go in there unprepared. It'll do Bastila no good if we go and get ourselves killed."

Tails grunted in agreement.

"Can I... ask you a few questions?"

"If you make it brief; it's nearly noon and we need to start looking. I'll tell you what I can, but I don't know how much help it'll be." Carth responded.

"What can you tell me about Malak and the Sith? Head injury, you know."

"Well... everything I know about Malak is pretty much common knowledge. He escaped the trap that killed Darth Revan, his Sith master. With Revan dead, Malak became the new Dark Lord. It's obvious that Malak is a ruthless tyrant who'll crush anyone in his way, just like Revan was. Experience has shown that the Sith won't stop until the Republic lies in ruins. Malak and the Sith don't respect anything except raw, brutal power. It's hard to imagine how someone who used to be a Jedi could become such a monster!"

"Huh? A Jedi? What do you mean?"

"Malak and Revan were once members of the Jedi Order, but they were young and headstrong. Against the wishes of the Council they both went to battle the Mandalorians on the Outer Rim of the galaxy. Something... _happened_ out there. Something corrupted them and drew them to the dark side. Or maybe there was something rotten in them all along; I don't know. They formed an army of ex-Republic soldiers and other Jedi who had fallen to the dark side, with Revan at their head, until Revan was killed by Bastlia's Jedi strike team. But even that didn't slow the Sith down! Malak simply stepped in and took control of the Sith armada as the new Dark Lord, resuming the bloody conquest of the Outer Worlds as if nothing even happened!"

The Mobian grunted noncommittally. This was an awful lot of data to assimilate.

"Don't worry, we'll find a way to stop them!" Tails piped, more optimistically than he felt.

"I hope you're right. The Republic hasn't been able to stop them so far, even with the help of the whole Jedi Order. I think Bastila is the galaxy's last hope."

"Well then," Tails started, "I guess we'd best start looking for Bastila. The sooner we start looking, the sooner we find her!" Tails was grinning.

"You read my mind, kid. Just one thing..."

"What's that?"

"Put some clothes on, please. I personally don't mind if you prance around naked, but we need to remain discreet."

"I am _NOT_ naked!"

"Maybe on _your_ planet, shoes and gloves count as 'fully clothed', but in the rest of the galaxy, wearing pants is considered civilized. Put a shirt on too, please. All your scars, especially those 'barbecue stripes', are going to attract unwanted attention. I put some appropriate clothing in your locker, earlier."

Tails fumed, but Carth's logic was solid. He huffed over to his footlocker and yanked out a pair of black cargo pants, an orange sleeveless shirt, and a black short-sleeved windbreaker. Tails hurriedly threw it all on, pulling his namesakes through a crudely cut tail-hole. Tails left the jacket open and unzipped.

_'I'm going to roast alive in all this fabric,'_ Tails thought to himself, _'if I don't itch to death, first!'_

"Happy?"

"Stop complaining, you look handsome in that outfit."

Carth handed Tails a small blaster pistol, which the irritated Mobian clipped to his belt.

"You ready?"

"Whenever you are!"

"Good. We can use this abandoned apartment as a base, and we can probably get equipment and supplies here in the Upper city. Just remember we need to keep a low profile. I've heard some grim stories about Dark Jedi interrogation techniques. They say the Force can do terrible things to a mind: it can wipe away your memories, and destroy your very identity! But... I figure that if we don't do anything stupid, we should be OK. I mean, they're searching for Bastila, not a couple of grunts like us. All right soldier, let's move out!"

"Agreed."

Carth and Tails opened the apartment door and stepped outside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Tails of the Old Republic**  
Chapter 007

* * *

As Tails and Carth exited the apartment, they found a mob waiting outside. Silently, Tails cursed the bad timing. Three armed Humans in steel-gray uniforms and twelve humanoid robots filled the hallway, menacing the other tenants. At least Carth and the teenage Mobian went unnoticed. Tails wrapped his unhurt tail around the injured one.

"All right, you alien scum! Up against the wall; this is a raid!" shouted the lead Human, shaking his fist. All the other tenants complied, with the exception of one.

A pale-blue alien with wrinkled skin stood defiantly in front of the lead Human. He spoke in a gurgley language Tails had never heard before, and yet, the fox could understand exactly was the person was saying.

"Why do you Sith keep bothering us?" the pale-blue alien asked. "You stormed through here yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that! And what did you find? Nothing! You Sith don't own this place, and you don't own us! Now go away!"

The lead Sith's face twisted with rage, and he leveled his rifle at the blue man's chest. A single pulse flashed from its muzzle, and the blue man fell to the floor.

"Stupid Duros! THAT is how we Sith deal with smart-mouthed aliens! Now everybody do as I say before I lose my temper _again!_"

Tails could feel his blood boiling, and he shook with anger. _'Such callous cruelty!'_ The boy bared his teeth and growled softly.

Out of the corner of his eye, the lead Human saw them. He spun on his heel, and faced Tails and Carth. "What's this? A Human and a furry little freak hiding out with aliens? You're Republic fugitives aren't you! Battle droids, attack!"

That moment, twelve weapons were leveled at the pair. Carth dove behind a group of metallic crates. Miles Prower, however, leapt onto the wall, rebounded against the opposite wall, and tried to sail over their heads like he had on the _Endar Spire_. The fox brandished his pistol, quickly judged where the robots' weakest points would be, and then aimed at their "necks". Tails' blaster flashed six times, and six robots were rendered headless.

Losing momentum, Tails smashed his boot against another robot's "face", bounced off, and whipped his double-tail against one of the Sith soldier's chest. The Mobian hadn't yet regained enough Chaos energy to turn his tails into blades, but the force of the blow caused the Human to fly into the wall, dazed. Still wrapped together, Tails' unhurt tail absorbed most of the stress, but his injured tail still burned in protest.

Blaster bolts cut through the air in all directions, but Tails was able to anticipate their attack vectors and dodge the incoming fire. Carth managed to shoot and kill one of the other Sith soldiers, and he turned two of the robots' attention way from his comrade.

Leaping through the air again, Tails shot and destroyed another battle droid, then smashed his gloved fist against the lead Sith's lower jaw. Three teeth flew out. Furious, the Human tried to club the Mobian with his rifle, but Tails simply scrunched to the floor and bull-whipped the man behind the knees, sweeping him off his feet. His rifle clattered to the floor.

Distracted, Tails almost didn't notice the melee weapon bearing down on his head. One of the robots was wielding a short sword that hummed with high-pitched vibration. Tails fell over backwards, but it was too late to ensure a clean miss. The blade slashed across Tails' forehead, cut through the eyepiece of his headset, and sliced a furrow down the boy's left cheek.

Tails yelped at the pain, then blasted the robot to bits. His broken headset fell off of him. Blood dribbled down the side of his face. The two dazed Humans managed to recover themselves, but before they could level their weapons at him, Carth popped up from his hiding place.

"Tails, break away!"

The fox saw two grenades sailing through the air, and knew what would happen next. Tails compressed his legs like steel springs, and jumped ten yards down the hallway. The grenades exploded, and the two Sith soldiers and the remaining battle droids were obliterated. Averting his eyes from the carnage, the boy strolled back over to Carth.

"Sheesh, I didn't expect you to jump into the _middle_ of them! What were you thinking?"

"I was pissed, and I was thinking how much I wanted to smash his face in. I lived, didn't I?"

"That's a nasty cut on your face, will you be OK?"

"Just hand me a rag before my blood stains these shiny new duds you gave me."

Carth complied, and Tails began mopping up the side of his face. _Just one more scar to add to my collection_, Tails thought.

"So much for staying discreet huh?" Tails remarked with a wry grin. Carth just chuckled, shaking his head.

Tails' grin vanished as his eyes flicked back toward the carnage, and saw the mangled bodies buried amongst the mismatched robot parts. The boy's bile rose, and he threw up in his mouth. He swallowed it back down before he could make a scene.

Cautiously, a blue-skinned Duros approached them.

"Are you... from the Republic? Thank you for saving us! My poor brother Ixgil, he never knew when to keep his big mouth shut. And now, he is dead. Do not concern yourselves with the mess here; we'll all clean it up and deposit the wreckage elsewhere. The Sith will never know this battle occurred here; we'll let them think there was an 'accident' in the Lower City. That should throw them off track. Consider us your friends!"

"Thank you, sir," Carth replied.

"We'll be around," Tails said, brushing himself off. "Call us if you need any more jerks bashed."

"Indeed," replied the Duros. With that, he and the other "alien" tenants turned their attention to the mess in the hallway.

Left alone, Carth and Tails walked down the hallway towards the elevator. Carth's description of the Sith was as accurate as he had stated, and Tails was developing a severe dislike of them. He still felt uncomfortable with _killing_ any of them, but his inhibitions were quickly being torn down. Tails sighed, and resisted the urge to scratch the side of his face. He could feel his nanites busily repairing the torn tissues, and he knew that scratching would only reopen the wound. Still, it itched like crazy.

Tails wished his nanites would hurry up and repair his burnt appendage, but since the nano-machines were blood borne, healing the scorched ruin would be exceedingly slow. At least they had restored partial feeling and functionality to the injured tail. Tails tugged on his bangs; they had gotten messy during the battle. Three long bangs once again bounced over his face. Carth and Tails entered the elevator.

"There's a physician here in the Upper City who may be able to fix up your tail," Carth said, pushing a button. "He seems trustworthy, it's worth a visit. His name's Zelka Forn or something."

"Why didn't you take me there to begin with?" Tails asked, annoyed.

"The escape pod had just crashed, Sith were swarming the place, and you were bleeding all over my Republic uniform."

"Oh... right. Never mind."

Tails and Carth remained silent during the elevator's descent. The teenager desperately tried to remember when, why, and how he had left Mobius and joined this "Republic" he was now fighting for, but failed miserably. His brain simply wasn't cooperating. It peeved him that he had spent the last decade of his life fighting Dr. Robotnik and his mechanized armies on Planet Mobius, and now he was off in some distant planet fighting _living people_ for some inter-planetary government he had no recollection of.

The memory of all the soldiers he had killed since the _Endar Spire_ made him feel ill again. What were Sonic, Knuckles, and Shadow doing right now? Was Robotnik finally dead? Were the people of Mobius finally free of his tyranny?

_'Why can't I remember?!'_

The elevator stopped, the door slid open, and the mid-day sun poured in. The duo stepped out.

To their credit, Tails' clothes were not nearly as hot as he'd predicted. Despite the fact he was wearing _black_ pants and a _black_ jacket, besides his brown-and-black boots and gloves, the sun didn't seem to be overheating him. In addition, it didn't seem his clothing was irritating his fur too badly; Tails had to scratch himself only once since putting them on. Maybe he could learn to tolerate them after all.

"Carth, what can you tell me about this planet?" Tails asked, looking up at his companion as they walked.

"Well, I've never been here before, so what I do know is limited to what I've learned this past week. Taris was once a great merchant world, a trade hub on this end of the galaxy. But new trade routes undercut Taris' importance over the last few centuries, and Taris became irrelevant economically. The planet fell into decline, and various gang bosses now vie for control. The planet is basically one gargantuan city. There are no forests, no grasslands, no farms, and almost no wildlife. Virtually all the food people eat come from the oceans in some way.

"The city of Taris is divided into three levels: the Upper City - where we are now, the Lower City, and the Undercity - where the other escape pods crashed. Mostly Humans live here in the Upper City, and they seem to be very... _opinionated_ about other forms of sapient life. Most of the other 'aliens' keep to the Lower City and the Undercity. You may want to be on your guard, Tails; I saw some children throwing rocks at non-Human passerby this morning."

"Didn't you try stop them?"

Carth sighed. "We have a job to do, Tails, and I didn't want to attract attention to myself."

Tails grumbled, but kept quiet. The Mobian fox looked around, and saw a lot of people staring at him. Some of them definitely seemed unhappy that a Human and a "furry little freak" were walking together. Tails pretended not to care, and simply smiled politely in return.

He also saw many Sith troops in silver armor patrolling the area, but they paid him no mind. Tails was well skilled in subterfuge, and he pretended like the Sith were _meant_ to be there, and the boy acted nonchalant. Carth was acting the same. But, Tails could see a hidden anger in Carth's eyes, a concealed fury directed at the Sith troops. Tails wondered if his comrade had a personal vendetta against the Sith. Carth showed not outward emotion, but the Mobian wasn't fooled. He simply filed this away for later.

"Hey Carth, so what do we use for, like, money? You know, to buy stuff. Somehow I doubt the mobiums from my planet would be worth much. Not that I have any."

"I have a datapad keeping track of our credits," Carth replied. "Republic credits can be used just about anywhere. Even the Sith use them, or something equivalent to them. I think we have… four hundred or so. I had a lot more, but the last week seemed to burn through them. We'll be needing a lot more credits before we get off this planet, I think."

_'Electronic money?'_ Tails thought to himself. The Kingdom of Acorn had been experimenting with the concept for a few years, but Mobius' infrastructure had been so thoroughly trashed by Dr. Robotnik that the idea never got off the ground. Most Mobians still used the barter system, and those who _did_ use money demanded "solid" cash. The Mobians who were _left_, anyway.

The Human and Mobian came to a large metal door, which slid open at their approach. The place seemed empty except for two Humans and a "droid" which greeted them. Tails was taken aback by how many intelligent robots he was seeing already. He had cobbled a few together, but the only robots in mass-production had been part of Robotnik's mechanical horde. Tails took great pleasure in blowing up _Lard_nik's factories, stealing his technology, and then using it against him.

"Well, hello there," said a Human in a greenish lab coat. "I can tell that the both of you are off-worlders. Do you need healing or medical supplies? I can treat almost any injury or ailment right here at Upper City Medical. Except for the rakghoul disease, of course."

"Yes, my friend here hurt his tail in... an accident, and would like it looked at. Can you help?" Carth asked.

"I can certainly take a look," the man replied, peering down at Tails. "What's your name, little one? I've never seen your species before."

"My name is Tails," the fox said. "I'm from a planet called Mobius. My pal and I got stuck in the quarantine. Are you Dr. Forn?"

"Why yes, I am! But you can just call me Zelka. My little clinic has no room for puffed-up doctors who obsess over their titles," Zelka Forn said with a chuckle. "If you'll hop onto this bench, I'll take a look at you."

Tails complied, and sat on a gray padded bench. Tails unwrapped his namesakes, much to Zelka's surprise. The boy held his injured tail in his arms, revealing the charred mess that scarred it. Zelka raised an eyebrow.

"That... looks like it hurt. What did you do, stick your tail in a power socket? Ah, never mind. I'll get something for you."

Dr. Forn reached into a cabinet and produced a bottle of something and an odd looking handheld device. He sprayed a stinging substance onto Tails' burnt tail, then re-bandaged the wound. Tails' eyes watered. Already, he could feel cellular activity being restored in the injured area. Next, Zelka held the electronic device about a foot over Tail's head, and the cut on his face felt warm.

"Um... what's that doing?" Tails asked.

"This is a dermal regenerator. It's healing the vibroblade wound on your face. If you wish, I can let it leave a scar, or I can remove all traces of it. Next time you get into a fight, be sure you duck."

"Uhhh..."

Zelka sighed. "Contrary to what my colleagues at Taris General Hospital may think, I am not an idiot. Just... be careful, OK lad?"

"Yes, sir. And... I think I'll keep the scar. For my personal decoration."

Zelka cast a wary glance at Carth Onasi, then at the exit. Tails heard his heart flutter. "It's so unfortunate you two got trapped here after the Sith arrived," he remarked. "A lot of off-worlders are stuck here now. Watch yourself out there, will you? Many people here have a backwards view regarding other species, and a two-tailed fox such as yourself might as well be wearing a 'kick me' sign. Well, you're done."

The green-clad physician put away his tools and patted Tails on the head.

"Your tail should be fully healed by tomorrow morning. Keep it bandaged until then."

"Thank you, sir. I'll be sure to watch myself next time," Tails replied.

"See that you do."

With that, Tails hopped off the bench and shook Zelka's hand.

"Just one more question," Tails asked. "What's rakghoul disease?"

Zelka shuddered. "An exceptionally horrible ailment with no known cure. In the Undercity of Taris, creatures known as rakghouls roam freely. They carry a particularly virulent pathogen that, if it gets in your blood, can re-write your genetic code and transform you into one of them. Every single rakghoul known to exist was once a Human, Twi'lek, Duros, or other sapient biped. They're horrible creatures, and do nothing except feed and spread their disease. Rakghouls look like white, twisted mockeries of Human beings, with enormous jaws and vicious claws. I sincerely hope you two have no business down there."

"There's no treatment at all?" Carth asked.

"None. Well, _maybe_. There are rumors that the Sith have already developed a serum that destroys the pathogen, but I can't confirm that. In any case, the Sith patrols in the Undercity would keep it on them at all times. If only I could get my hands on that serum, I could synthesize and mass produce it! Rakghoul disease could be totally eradicated in just a few years!" Zelka answered absentmindedly.

"Maybe... we could get that serum for you." Tails suggested.

"PLEASE, don't say that!" Zelka bellowed, whirling around, scanning for eavesdroppers. "I only mentioned the serum because you asked! Only a fool would... _confront_ a Sith patrol, even in the Undercity! Don't do anything dumb!"

"Yeesh, I was just thinking aloud," Tails complained. "It's not like I was serious." Actually, he was. If the Sith were hoarding a cure, he would have little inhibition about taking it.

Dr. Forn relaxed somewhat, and glanced briefly at the large door behind him. "Just... don't do anything stupid, all right?"

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, sir."

Carth spoke next. "Is there any cost, doctor?"

"No, there's no cost. This is a free clinic, supported by the community. Have a good day, you two."

Carth and Tails exited the clinic.

"Well, that was interesting," Carth remarked.

"Zelka is hiding something," Tails stated matter-of-factly. "Ever since he concluded these were battle scars, his heartbeat was erratic, his fingers twitched, and the scent of his perspiration increased dramatically. Especially when he glanced at that other large door."

"What do you think he's hiding?"

"I dunno. I'm a polygraph, not a psychic. I think it involves the Sith, though."

"Do you think he's working for the Sith?"

"Not likely. Rather, I think Zelka Forn is hiding something _from_ the Sith. Yes, that would explain his behavior."

"What do you suppose that is?" Carth asked?

"How would I know?" Tails replied. "But perhaps later we'll find out."


	8. Chapter 8

**Tails of the Old Republic**  
Chapter 008

* * *

As they walked down the main path, Carth had an absentminded look plastered to his face.

"If you don't watch where you're going, your face might become a parking brake," Tails warned.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Carth watched where he was walking now. "I was just... thinking. About something."

"Obviously. But at least I can think and walk at the same time."

"There's no need to be rude, Tails." Carth grumbled.

"Hey, I'm following you! You've had nearly a week to scope out this place, so I kinda expected you to have some idea of where to start. Do you?"

"Yes, actually," Carth fumed. "There's an elevator nearby that leads to the Lower City. From there, we'll find a way into the Undercity where the other escape pods landed. But the Sith have commandeered it, and only those on 'official Sith business' can use it. Therefore, we need to find some 'official Sith business' or just find some Sith armor to hide our faces in."

_'I hope you find one in the _extra small_ size category,'_ Tails thought to himself.

"Therefore, we're going to a cantina to find information. With any luck, we'll get the tip we need."

Tails thought that was a pretty poor plan, but he kept his mouth shut. Tails figured he could just beat up the soldiers guarding the elevator, and then take the lift down to the Lower City. But then, an alarm would probably be sent to the rest of the Sith, and he and Carth would have a whole battalion of troops coming down on their heads. Still, what good could come from hanging out at a tavern? The fox simply shook his head and decided to trust Carth's judgment.

The duo rounded a corner, and crossed short bridge that spanned two of Taris' enormous buildings. Tails admired the architecture. The whole city seemed to have an industrialist appearance. The buildings themselves were at least two miles tall, and had a semicircular tops adorned with geometric symbols. Tails couldn't see the ground because there was a dense fog obscuring it. The fox wished he could fly right then, and tour the city at a more accelerated pace, but with his one tail wounded as it was, Tails was stuck on the road with a slowpoke Human.

Soon enough, Carth and Tails came to another large metal door. The glowing sign read, "Upper City Cantina XB43". Precisely _how_ Tails was able to read the alien gibberish was currently beyond him.

"We're here," Carth stated.

A large, muscular Human in light body armor guarded the door. Tails figured he was one of the bouncers. The man looked at the Mobian, wrinkled his nose, then turned to face Carth.

"I'm sorry sir, but no pets allowed inside," he declared.

_'WHAT did you just call me?!'_

Tails restrained the sudden urge to kick the Human in the groin.

Carth noticed the indignation on Tails' face, and coughed deliberately. He answered, "Ahem, pardon the confusion, but Mr. Prower here is in no way my... um, _pet_. I can assure you he is his own person and is fully capable of answering for himself. We're visitors to Taris, you see, and I want to unwind here with my friend."

The bouncer grumbled, then said, "I see, so you two are more off-worlders caught in the quarantine, huh? Fine then. You may pass, furry one. Mr. Prower, I mean."

Trying to hide his irritation, Tails absentmindedly brushed off his jacket and smiled and replied, "Thank you, good sir. I promise I'll be no trouble at all!"

The bouncer simply huffed. The door opened, and the pair walked inside.

In contrast to the sunshine outside, the tavern was dark and poorly illuminated. Tails' natural night vision kicked in. The place stunk with the scent of ethanol, and the air was smoky. The fox nearly gagged. THIS was the best place to gather information?!

Tails and Carth strolled past several patrons playing card games and entered the main bar. Following Carth's example, Tails took a seat at a table. The Human-sized chair made Tails feel uncomfortably small. A lithe female Human walked up, holding a stylus and oversized datapad.

"Welcome! Is there anything I can get for you two, or would you like a few minutes to look at the menu?"

"I think I'll need a little more time," Carth said.

"Um... do you serve chili dogs here?" Tails asked hopefully.

As if seeing him for the first time, the woman narrowed her eyes at the Mobian, then smiled. "Well, hello there! Can't say I've ever seen one of your kind before. You're actually pretty handsome for an alien, and you speak Galactic Basic as fluently as a Human can! I'm impressed! What happened, did the Sith impound your spaceship?"

Tails' face felt unusually warm. "Uhhhh... yeah, something like that..."

"Tsk, too bad. Oh! I'm sorry. Um, I don't think we serve any type of 'dog' here. Can I get something else for you?"

"No, no... a 'chili dog' is simply a cooked sausage wrapped in a bun with ketchup, mustard, and relish topped with refried beans, hot peppers, and melted cheese," Tails tried to explain. "I'm not looking for an actual 'dog' to eat..."

"Oh, I'm sorry I misunderstood. I think we have something matching that description, though I've never heard it called a 'chili dog' before. How many would you like, sir?"

"I dunno. At least twenty."

Carth gasped and broke into a coughing fit, while the waitress just smiled with amusement.

"Ahem, what would you like to drink with that, sir?"

"Do you have anything that _doesn't_ have alcohol in it?" Tails inquired.

The waitress scanned through her datapad, and replied, "Well, we have water, fruit juice, and spicy vegetable juice. That's it, I'm afraid."

"I'll take a pitcher of the spicy vegetable juice, thank you."

The woman giggled to herself, then said, "Very well; twenty 'chili dogs' and a pitcher of juice, coming right up." She turned to Carth and asked, "And have you decided yet, sir?"

"I think... I may need more time to decide, thanks."

"All right, I'll be back. Don't go away!" The waitress walked off, leaving Carth and Tails alone.

Carth glared at the Mobian.

"What? What's wrong?"

"You... are a pig! I'm going to cram our bill down your throat when we get it!"

"I'm a fox, and I'm hungry! Relax, will you?"

"You practically inhaled that monstrous breakfast not eight hours ago, and you're already starving again?"

"Yeah. So?"

Carth groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Never mind," he said finally.

After a few minutes, a cart carrying three large rectangular platters and a gallon-sized pitcher appeared. The same waitress transferred the bulky items to their table, which became completely dominated by Tails' order. Twenty foot-long chili dogs, heaped with chili beans and dribbling cheese down their sides, where the subject of Miles Prower's undivided attention.

"There... is no freaking way... you can eat all that in one sitting..." Carth spoke.

"Mr. Onasi, I find your lack of faith... most disturbing!" Tails replied, grinning from ear to ear.

"Whoa, dude!" came a male voice behind Tails. "You're not seriously planning on eating all that, are you?"

Tails turned in his chair, and found a scruffy looking Human sitting at the table next to him. He looked drunk, and his breath reeked of ethanol.

"Why yes, I am!" came Tails' glib reply.

"Mr. Furry Alien, I betcha one hundred credits a pipsqueak like you can't finish that!

_'Nobody calls ME a pipsqueak and gets away with it!'_

"Oh really?" said Tails, tugging on his bangs. "And what if I fail?"

"You gotta pay _me_ a hundred credits!"

"Seems like a fair deal! I'm game!"

"_TAILS_..." snarled Carth.

"Ease off, will you? I'm the champion eater on Mobius! Not even Sonic the Hedgehog can beat me at eating contests!"

Carth just groaned.

"Deal! This I _gotta_ see." said the scruffy drunk Human.

Smiling wickedly, the teenage Mobian unbuckled his belt and began stuffing his face with his meal. Tails paced himself at ninety seconds per chili dog, sipping his juice to keep his throat wet. The flavors were incredible. From the bun, to the sausage itself, to the spreads, to the beans, the cheese, and all the spices in between, they were unlike anything the fox had tasted before. The chili dogs he had eaten on Mobius and on Earth were good, but these... were from a wholly different plane of existence! They were remarkably filling, too, a fact that worried the boy. After the twelfth chili dog and first quart of his juice had been consumed, Tails wondered if he was going to fail the bet. Still, Tails soldiered on, not breaking his pace.

Thoroughly disgusted with his companion, Carth covered his face with his palm.

After the eighteenth chili dog had vanished within him, Tails was struggling, and it showed. _'Come on Miles, just two more!'_ he thought to himself. He now unbuckled his pants, allowing his guts to shift around a bit more. Tails was panting now, and after gulping down the nineteenth one, the fox officially crossed the threshold of discomfort. Every bite now strained him. _Resistance is futile!_ he mentally told the final chili dog.

"You're not... giving up, are ya Mr. Alien?" taunted the scruffy Human. He was sweating profusely, and had obviously not entertained the thought of _losing_.

Wordlessly, Tails just smirked, and crammed the final chili dog into his drooling mouth. Tails took his time consuming it, savoring ever molecule. After the last piece slid down his throat, Tails belched loudly. As a final insult, the boy licked all three platters clean. The flabbergasted drunk man transferred the credits without a fuss. Leaning back in his seat, Tails' head swam. He couldn't remember ever eating so much. The Mobian flicked his distended belly, and it reverberated like a water drum. It was incongruous; Tails was a lean, compact bundle of fur and muscle, but his stomach now hung over his waist like an over-inflated balloon. Tails gurgled.

"You. Are. Freaking. Disgusting."

"Carth... shut up," Tails sighed. "I just earned a tidy profit for us, didn't I?"

"I can't believe I'm partnered with a walking vacuum cleaner -"

Tails belched again. Already, his stomach shrank somewhat.

"- with the manners of a kath hound."

"Do you always complain this much?" asked Tails.

Carth lowered his voice to a whisper, and replied, "We have a job to do, and you're making a game out of it! Do you realize just how much attention you've drawn to yourself? Bastila may be in grave danger, and you're only thought is to amuse yourself by seeing how much food you can pack within your gut? Can you even _move_ in your current condition? If you're through being a public spectacle, I need you to get serious!"

Miles Prower briefly entertained the thought of punching Carth in the face, but restrained the impulse to do so. Superior officers usually don't like that kind of behavior. Besides, his arm wouldn't reach across the table. Instead, Tails simply cleaned the bits of food off his gloves (which he had never removed) with a sanitizing wipe, mopped up the stray chili smearing his face, and stretched out in his chair. Tails had a damn good reason for gorging himself, and as his intestines assimilated his meal, the boy could feel his lost Chaos energy come swelling back, though still not as rapidly as he would like. The nanites in his blood were still repairing his injuries from the _Endar Spire_, and they needed fuel just like his cellular tissues did.

And what had Carth done in the time Tails was busy feeding? Nothing! For the past thirty minutes, the Human had just sat there, making a big fuss about Tails' relative disgusting-ness, when he could have been searching for tips on how to get past the Sith guarding the elevator to the Lower City. Meanwhile, the _entire time_ he was stuffing his face, Tails had been scanning _every single_ conversation stream in this particular room, and in two adjacent rooms, for _any_ hint that may have been relevant to their mission. The fox's parabolic ears did more than frame his skull.

The adolescent Mobian sighed, patted his stomach, and belched yet again, allowing the bulge to shrink a little more.

"Carth," the boy began, "while you've been sitting there grumbling, I've been more useful this past half-hour than you may realize. Do you see these huge ears of mine? I've been listening in. On everybody. Please don't jump to conclusions based upon faulty assumptions. Now then, I'm going to take a short nap and finish digesting all this in here. Perhaps, if you're through _whining_, you could make _yourself_ useful while I'm out."

Miles "Tails" Prower pulled in his boots so that he was sitting doggie-style on his chair, closed his eyes, and turned off like a light bulb. Miles had no intention of sleeping deeply, of course, and his ears rotated back and forth, sifting through the noises surrounding him. He was glad he "installed" those neural implants in his cranium and throughout his body last year; they allowed him to be a lot more versatile and overcome some of the limitations of being "purely organic", especially during sleep. Of course, he had hidden that little procedure from everyone around him, even Sonic.

After Dr. Robotnik began tearing up Planet Mobius with his mechanical hordes, many Mobians had developed a fear of technology, and the most zealous technophobes might have accused the young progeny of trying to "robotisize" himself. No one but Miles knew of his cybernetic implants. No one but him knew of his nanites, or of the polycarbide armor that now plated his bones. Robotisize himself, indeed! Miles dreamed of a Mobius free from Robotnik and the terrors he spawned. He dreamed of the day his burning homeworld could be restored to her former glory. But so much stood in the way. So much was blocking that dream from coming to reality, and an enormous chunk of the blame landed right at the feet of his blue hedgehog idol...

Tails re-awoke about forty minutes after he had fallen asleep. No one had bothered him. Carth was absent, and so was the drunk man. The table had been cleared, and a fresh tablecloth had been placed upon it. The cantina still bustled with activity, but most of the patrons seemed to be ignoring the "furry alien". A few of the female patrons cast interested looks his direction, but precisely what their "interest" was, Tails couldn't guess. Well, he _could_, but didn't really want to.

Hopping off his chair, Tails checked his stomach, and it was flat and hard as rock again. Tails re-buckled his pants and fastened his belt. He brushed the remaining crumbs off his gloves, boots, shirt, pants, and jacket. Tails found a restroom and used it, then went looking for Carth. Hopefully, he wasn't off sulking somewhere. Tail's wounded namesake was now responding to his commands nearly as readily as the uninjured one, so he felt it was unnecessary to keep them wrapped together as before. Letting them flow independently behind him, he walked without feeling unbalanced, though his dual appendages caused more than a few double-takes.

To be honest, Tails felt a little ill from eating all that food. His body never really tolerated starches very well, which the bread and beans were, of course, full of. And now that he was an adolescent, Tails' body reacted to starchy and sugary foods even worse. He was a fox - a carnivore - and his body ran best on meat and fat. Unfortunately, old pleasures died hard.

The stink of ethanol and smoldering plant material offended his nostrils, but it couldn't be helped. Tails scanned all the conversations as he passed by, but none of them held information relevant to his current mission. Sure, there was plenty of talk regarding the Sith, the Republic, the space battle in orbit, and of the escape pods, but there was nothing _useful_ to be gleaned. Still, Tails absorbed as much as his brain could take in.

He found a room containing a platform with female dancers, and various male patrons were watching them. These dancers had either bluish or greenish skin, and coming out of their heads were two fleshy tail-like structures that draped over their shoulders. Tails figured these were the "Twi'lek" people he had been hearing about. They looked almost like Humans except for their skin pigmentation and those fleshy structures coming out of their heads. The dancers' movements were rather entrancing, and he found himself watching their motions a little too closely. Finding nothing else of interest, Tails moved on.

The last room he checked on this floor was long and rectangular. About a dozen people milled about, looking at structures that looked like large TV sets. Walking in, Tails was nearly ran over by a pair of Humans running in breathlessly, though it appeared one was pulling the other.

_'Hey! I may be shorter than you, but don't just plow through me!'_

"Oh, I can't believe we couldn't get arena tickets for this match!" said the lead Human, a female.

"Who cares, it's Gerlon and Duncan. It's not like we're missing anything!" replied the gruff male being tugged on.

"SHH! It's starting! Take a look at the viewscreen!"

Wanting to know what was so important as to run over bystanders, Tails strolled over to a vacant view screen and watched the feed. The screen revealed something like a small dueling ring or fighting arena, and the camera panned by several dozen spectators.

"Ladies and gentlemen, draw your attention to the dueling ring," a male announcer spoke. "Here, two combatants will battle for your viewing and gambling enjoyment. Now, I hope all your bets are down, because we're ready to roll! In this corner I give you... Gerlon Two-Fingers!"

There was a hearty applause, and a youngish Human male, probably in his late twenties, appeared on camera.

"And over here," the announcer continued, "looking to climb the ranks yet again is the ever persistent Deadeye Duncan!"

Another man, this one looking a bit older, appeared. He was met with only mild applause, and also some booing.

The two opponents faced each other, and then they drew their blasters. But something was wrong: the blaster that belonged to "Deadeye Duncan" flew out of the man's hand and landed by his feet. The man scrambled to pick it back up, but it was far too late to help him any. The blaster that belonged to "Gerlon Two-Fingers" flashed, and a bolt of energy struck "Duncan" in the chest. The man quivered like he was being shocked, then thudded on the floor.

_'Wow... epic fail on "Duncan" here... Is he dead?'_

"And to nobody's great surprise, Deadeye is down again!" declared the announcer. "Don't worry folks, he's just unconscious. _As usual_. The medics will have him up and about in a bit. Well, that was quick, wasn't it? So I give you the winner... Gerlon Two-fingers!"

There was a subdued cheer, then Tails' viewscreen shut off.

"Well, that... was interesting," Tails mumbled.


	9. Chapter 9

**Tails of the Old Republic**  
Chapter 009

* * *

"Well that... was interesting," Tails remarked.

"Sorry Human, the betting window's closed," said a deep, grotesque voice. It sounded revolting, like a diarrhetic man shot-gunning a toilet. Tails turned to see who was speaking, and saw a most hideous creature. At the far end of the room sat, or lay, an enormous slug-like creature with a wide face and two degenerate arms. Tails was glad he ate more than an hour ago; just seeing this... _thing_ made him feel like puking.

Tails heard someone walking up behind him, and he identified who it was without even turning around.

"So there you are. Have you found anything?" asked Carth.

"No, I haven't. I've swept through this entire floor, and nothing relevant has popped up. What about you, Carth?"

"The same. We should continue scoping out the place though; people are walking in and out all the time."

Turning to face Carth, Tails asked, "Quick question: just what... is that?" Tails pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

"What, you've never seen a Hutt before?"

"No. Is that what that... slug thing is called?"

"Yeah. Hutts are pretty disgusting, I know, but they tend to populate any planet they can squeeze a profit out of. I walked through here not too long ago; he's the manager of this cantina's dueling ring. Name's Ajuur, or something. They all look like talking bantha feces, to me."

"No kidding... so that thing runs the dueling ring I saw?" Tails inquired.

"Uh-huh. Dueling is, or used to be, a big thing here on Taris. Supposedly death matches have been outlawed, and I hear anyone can sign up. Not that I'm in any way interested."

Tails had never really relished combat, it was always just a means to an end for him. He fought to defend himself, to save the lives of others, and generally to be a pain in Robotnik's fat arse. Unlike Sonic, who made a game out of even the most serious life-or-death struggles, the fox never found combat to be all that "fun". Especially since Tails was the one who always got beat up and injured the most. He tried so hard to keep up with Sonic, but even in victory, Tails' body paid the price. Hence the scars.

And yet...

The Mobian started walking towards the Hutt.

"Where are you going?" Carth asked.

"To talk with the slug-creature."

Tails approached the monstrosity, and wondered if the thing would actually notice him. It did.

"I'm sorry, furry one – the betting window is closed," the Hutt declared. "No more fights right now. People are sick of seeing the same duelists all the time. It's bad for business Unless..."

"Can I sign up?" asked Tails. Carth groaned.

The Hutt's face, such as it was, seemed to brighten somewhat. "Ah! My name is Ajuur, and I organize all the duels here. We need a new face in the dueling game, furry one. You want to step into the duel ring? It can be a highly profitable venture. I can arrange for you to fight in the duel ring. If you win, you get the standard contract: ten percent of all wagers."

"Interesting," Tails replied. "What are the risks?"

"Nobody dies in the duel ring anymore," Ajuur answered. "Death matches are illegal now. Most fighters in the duel ring use vibroblades or stun sticks because the ring's pretty small, but a few of the duelists use blasters. Use whichever you prefer."

Carth looked exasperated, but interjected, "Vibroblades and blasters... and nobody dies? Why do I get the feeling you're trying to take us for a ride?"

"The duel ring has energy suppressor fields to make sure nobody dies," replied Ajuur. "Weapons are limited so that they can hurt, but cannot kill. And we've got several medic droids ready in case of serious injuries. Are you interested?"

"I don't think this is a good idea," Carth told Tails.

"Relax, these duels are one-on-one, right? So long I don't try to fight any more Jedi, I'll be fine," he answered Carth. Turning back to the Hutt, Tails replied, "Yes, I'm interested."

"Good!" the Hutt gurgled in his revolting voice. "New blood for the ring! But you need a nickname, like Ice or Deadeye or Twitch. Good nicknames make people bet more. Hmmm, what's a good nickname for you?"

"My friends call me Tails. Just use that."

"Hmmm, fitting, yes, but too bland. You're an off-worlder, you're new here, so people won't recognize you. I know! From now on in the duel ring you'll be known as... the Mysterious Stranger!"

"Wha...? 'Mysterious Stranger'? What a dorky nickname! Just use 'Tails'," the fox complained.

"Bah! What do you know about nicknames? I've been giving names for twenty years. Mysterious Stranger – that's your name now! 'Mysterious Stranger' is a perfect name for you. You've got no past, no history... it makes you seem like you're hiding some big, dark secret. People like that, makes them bet more. Take it or leave it."

Miles Prower grumbled.

"Perhaps this is for the best," said Carth, sighing. "We could use those credits from these duels, and using this new alias will help protect us in case any of the Sith knew your real name. One of them could have downloaded the crew manifest from the Endar Spire."

"All right, I'll use the stupid nickname, Ajuur. When can I start?"

"You ready for a duel now? You want to step into the ring right away? I'll set you up with Deadeye Duncan to start. I'll tell you the rules if you're ready."

"I'm ready!" Tails declared. He felt oddly exhilarated.

"Yes! You fight, people bet, and I make money! It's all good. Only one rule – nobody dies. Your opponent goes down, you do NOT finish him off. Death matches are illegal now. You're new at this, so I'll start you off easy. You get to fight Deadeye Duncan in one hour. He should be eager to fight a new challenger. Prepare yourself, furry one."

"Of course," said Tails.

"I'll return to the dining room," Carth said.

"You're not going to watch?"

"No. The information we seek may still yet present itself. Good luck in there."

With that, Carth left. Tails just stood with his back to the Hutt, and saw that a lot of people were noticing him now. Some just scoffed, and others seemed intrigued.

Choosing to ignore them, the Mobian walked to a semi-secluded corner of the room and started stretching his limbs. Despite his new athletic musculature, Tails was still leanly built, and his speed and tactical agility were his primary assets in close-quarters combat, not strength. He wasn't Knuckles. The boy doubted any of these Human duelists could touch him, but he wanted to maximize his flexibility and range of motion anyway. He flexed his namesakes, and was delighted that both tails were working properly. The tail that had parried the lightsaber still ached a little, and he decided to leave the bandage on it as Zelka instructed. Tails' reserve of Chaos energy was only half replenished by his estimation, but he figured he probably wouldn't need it. He wouldn't be trying to kill his opponents, after all.

Tails wanted to remove his extraneous clothing, but he considered what Carth had said about keeping his scars hidden, his "barbecue stripes" in particular. He considered now that he should have showed Zelka Forn his other six lightsaber burns so he could have used that dermal regenerator on them, but it was too late for it. But then, if these Human spectators saw just how battle-scarred his body was, would they bet more? In the end, the boy kept his clothes on.

"It's time for the match," Ajuur stated. "Are you ready to get into the ring now?"

"I am!"

"Excellent! This attendant will lead you to the arena."

A female Twi'lek appeared, and she directed Tails through a small metal door and down a flight of stairs. This one had orange skin, and she was very... aesthetically pleasing. The teenager felt his face get warm, and so kept his eyes off her.

"This last door will open in exactly two minutes," she said. "Once you enter it, you will be inside the ring. Good luck, twin-tail."

Tails smiled politely in return.

At last, the large metal door in front of him opened, and he passed through the threshold. Bright stadium lights shone upon him, and his natural night vision overloaded. Blinking away the stars, he saw he was in the arena. It was about twenty meters in diameter, with high walls and ringed with spectators, sitting in bleachers. He saw his opponent: Deadeye Duncan. He was grinning.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Draw your eyes to the center ring!" called the disembodied announcer. "We have a very special presentation in store for you! You've seen him lose night, after night, after night; but this time, he's after fresh meat! In this corner I give you... Deadeye Duncan!"

Duncan was met with the same mixture of applause and booing as before. Suddenly, he brandished a longsword, and its blade hummed. Tails felt the newest scar on his face itch.

"And in the other corner, a relative newcomer to the Taris Dueling scene. A twin-tailed demon, emerging from the shadows with no history, no past, and no name! The Mysterious Stranger!"

Curiously, Tails received even more booing than Duncan did. Apparently, a lot of the spectators really didn't like him. Ha, what bigots! Tails' ears even picked up the phrase "paste that fuzzy mutant" from above the din. The fox just chuckled.

An air horn blasted, and Duncan, wielding his vibroblade, charged after him. Tails could understand how an "energy suppressor" could render a blaster bolt nonlethal, but how would an energy suppressor stop a sword from slicing someone in half? Whatever, Tails wasn't about to test its effects. As Duncan ran at him, Tails quickly evaluated his threat level. This was definitely the same idiot who dropped his blaster before. Duncan appeared no stronger or faster than any other Human with his build, and his eyes didn't reveal any sort of master plan behind his attack strategy. "Deadeye" was just a man with a sharp metal stick.

Duncan swung, and Tails dodged. The man clumsily recovered himself, and charged again. Tails hopped from foot to foot, and Duncan made a fool of himself with each failed swing. Playfully, Tails slapped one of his tails across the man's face.

_Whack!_

Tails employed very little force behind the slap, not enough to hurt Duncan, but plenty enough to insult him. The fox folded his arms across his chest and smiled. Duncan growled, and the boy could see the man was losing his focus. Furious, the man charged again. Tails effortlessly avoided his clumsy swings and thrusts. He actually batted a few strikes away with his hands.

_Smack! Thwack!_

Duncan was struck by Tails' fluffy whips first across his stomach, then across his face. Duncan fell on his rear. Predictably, the man got back up and charged. The Mobian admired his persistence, but certainly not his competence. Tails twisted out of his way and thrust a tail in his path, tripping him. The man fell flat on his face, and his longsword clattered to the floor. Getting back up, Tails could see blood flowing from his nose. Forgetting the sword, Deadeye Duncan ran like a mad man at the boy, trying to tackle him.

Tails sighed.

Balling his right hand into a fist, Tails swung his arm in Duncan's path, and it slammed into his gut. Tails' naturally-generated Chaos energy made him a lot stronger than his size would suggest, and the fox had to hold some of his strength back otherwise the force of the blow could have left the Human with organ damage. Stunned, every trace of air was expelled from Duncan's lungs, and the obstinate Human was completely winded. Unable to move, Duncan collapsed on top of the boy, who then deposited the writhing, breathless man onto the floor. Ten seconds passed, and the air horn sounded again.

"Its over, the fight is over! The Mysterious Stranger has won!" declared the announcer. "And without drawing a single weapon, too! But really now, are any of us surprised? Deadeye losing isn't news. You'll have to do better than that to impress us, Stranger!"

Two medical droids carrying a stretcher ferried away the incapacitated Duncan. At first, the spectators were silent, but Tails eventually heard the sound of clapping, soon joined by the random cheer or whistle, but his applause was very subdued. It seemed the announcer was right: Deadeye Duncan losing to anybody, even a complete "n00b", simply wasn't news to them. A least no one booed at him now. Tails bent for an elegant bow, then returned through the large door he entered in, and was greeted by the orange Twi'lek. She seemed genuinely happy that the boy was unhurt, and she gave polite congratulations. Tails wondered if she was some sort of slave, doomed to serve that fat turd upstairs all her life. The thought of it made him angry, though he didn't think it could be helped at the moment.

Returning to the main floor of the cantina, Tails walked up to the Hutt.

"Ah, 'Mysterious Stranger'! Good fight, good fight," gurgled Ajuur in his diarretic voice. "Some people seem to like you; they bet a lot on you this fight. It makes me happy... and rich!"

"Well, I'm glad I could be of assistance to you," Tails replied with a hint of sarcasm.

"I always pay my debts. You won, you get paid. Ten percent of the purse, that was the deal. Here's your credits. You come see me when you want to fight again." said Ajuur.

Tails pulled the datapad out of his black cargo pants and held it in front of him. It chimed softly, and he saw that two hundred forty-seven credits had been transferred to it.

_'Huh, so people bet two thousand four hundred and seventy credits on our match? Not bad, I guess.'_

"Thank you, fine sir," Tails told the Hutt. "Can the next duelist be ready in an hour?"

"Oh, certainly! I'll set you up with Gerlon Two-Fingers next. He should be itching to fight someone more competent than that idiot, Deadeye. One hour, Stranger; don't be late!"

"I won't be," Tails confirmed. He bowed slightly, then turned to leave the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**Tails of the Old Republic**  
Chapter 010

* * *

"I won't be," Tails confirmed. He bowed slightly, then turned to leave the room.

As Tails proceeded down the long rectangular room, he noticed that _everyone_ was looking at him to some degree or other. Some were smiling, some were snarling, and some wore rather curious expressions on their faces. Since none of them seemed comfortable enough to strike up a conversation, Tails simply smiled and passively waved as he left.

In the main dining area, it seemed everyone was oblivious to the events of the past hour, and hardly anyone gave him a second glance, except to stare at his oversized appendages. Tails didn't see Carth anywhere, and figured he was in another part of the cantina. The Mobian ambled up to the main bar and hopped onto a stool. It had a rotating seat.

"Hello..." said a gruff-sounding bartender. He wrinkled his nose at the sight of the diminutive fox.

"I'd like a tall glass of water, please," Tails asked politely.

"We don't serve non-alcoholic drinks at the bar, little alien," the bartender quickly replied. "Please go sit at a table and wait for assistance."

Tails' left eye twitched. He was getting annoyed by all the crap he was taking, but he kept his facial features relaxed.

"I'm sorry, I -"

"Rudy, quit being a jackass, and give the boy what he ordered!"

Curious and somewhat startled, Tails turned on his stool and saw the lithe waitress who had served him earlier. She was no longer in uniform, and was now wearing ordinary street clothes. Her eyes seemed to be burning a hole into the bartender's skull, and "Rudy" caved under her glare.

"Ahem, one tall glass of water coming right up," the bartender said.

The plain-clothes waitress sat on the stool at Tails' right side and ordered her own drink. Smiling, she turned to face him.

"Hi. My name's Nithya, and I'm the head waitress here. I out-rank Mr. Etiquette there. So what's your name, my foxy glutton?"

The Mobian was glad his face was covered with fur, because he was blushing horribly. He chuckled, then replied, "T-Tails. My name is Tails."

"Oh?" she remarked. Nithya traced her eyes over the boy's fluffy, oversized appendages, then asked, "Is that the name your mother gave you?"

"Um, no. My friends call me 'Tails', but my real name is Miles. Miles Prower."

"Miles... that's a lot better name than 'Mysterious Stranger'. Ajuur is a master at handing out goofy aliases, isn't he?"

"You can say that again," Tails answered. "You saw my match?"

"Yes, I did! My shift had just ended, and I heard that Duncan would be fighting a newbie with a dorky nickname. Duncan's a born loser, but I was curious to see how the new guy would fare. And I saw it was you! 'Deadeye' got his ass handed to him, which was not unexpected, but you did it with class, Miles. Are you going to fight again?"

"Uh-huh. In about an hour."

"Already? Wow, you must be eager to kick butt. Are you trained in combat, or something?"

Rudy the rude bartender delivered their drinks, and Miles sipped his water. It was cold and refreshing.

"Not formally," Miles replied, "but I've been fighting for most of my life. Most of my skills are self-taught, and I've been honing them for over a decade now."

"Fighting? For ten years?" she said, her voice sounding concerned. "Is that where those scars came from?" she asked, looking over his face. Nithya's eyes seemed transfixed on the scar he earned earlier that morning.

"May I?" she asked.

"Hmm? Do what?"

"May I... feel it? Your scar, I mean."

The boy's heart rate suddenly spiked, but it calmed down after a moment. "You may," he answered.

To her credit, Nithya had actually asked him permission before touching him. Tails liked female contact, he really did, but he usually freaked out when random females just started touching him in random places. Nithya brushed the side of his face with her fingers, and Tails resisted the urge to lean into her hand like a pet puppy. The Human, with her index finger, delicately traced Tails' most recent scar, following it across his forehead, past his eye, and down his left cheek. Zelka's regenerator-thing had fully healed it, so it didn't hurt at all. The woman stroked his three long bangs.

"Such soft fur you have... like microfiber..."

Tails felt his brain fogging over.

"I have... lots and lots of old scars," Tails said, smiling to himself. "Heck, my whole body is practically an open canvas of old lacerations and laser burns. I don't let them bother me. In fact, I tend to view them as honorary decorations. Just something else I lived through, you know? I've got my whole life's story painted on me, in one form or another! Heheheh."

"May I see them?" Nithya asked.

"Huh? You mean my old scars?"

She nodded.

"Uhhhhh, I, um, _sure_, I guess."

Slightly embarrassed, Tails' heart rate was elevated again. He didn't want to remove his gloves or boots and reveal his naked hands or feet, and he was quite sure removing his pants would get him kicked out of the cantina, so Tails figured he could let her see his stomach. Careful to ensure his lightsaber scorches remained hidden, the fox lifted up the front of his orange shirt half way, revealing his abdomen. No fewer than nine different lacerations criss-crossed his belly. Tails knew each one by date, opponent, and serial number.

"Oh my goodness, so many scars!" she gasped. Nithya eyed his stomach intently, tracing his old wounds. But within a few moments, her facial expression changed somewhat, and her eyes seemed to glaze over. Looking back at Tails' face, she lifted an eyebrow and added, "Cute abs, though. You've got some nice muscles for such a little guy... how old did you say you were?"

_'Warning! Warning! Female overload! Neural meltdown imminent! Freak-out now commencing!'_

Tails' face suddenly burned red hot, and he put his shirt back down, trying to jostle the fog out of his brain. He inwardly cursed his lack of judgment. He didn't want to know what Nithya was currently thinking, though his best guess was probably accurate. It was time to leave. It was bad enough when Mobian girls started drooling over him, but the fact that this female was a _Human_ just freaked the hell out of him. Tails wasn't about to stick around and let her ask any awkward questions. The Mobian gulped the last of his water and slid off his stool.

"Um, thanks, I guess. I... should get back to the fighting arena now."

"Of course. I'll be betting on you!"

"Thanks. And... thanks for the help with my drink."

"You're welcome. Later, cutie!"

Tails spun on his heel and half-ran back to the dueling center. His face felt hot enough to catch fire, his heart was beating erratically. Tails slowed down to a leisurely walk, and recomposed himself. He didn't expect the Human female to become so entranced with his figure, and the thoughts that crossed his mind were less than appealing. Damn hormones! And, like an idiot, Tails had set up the situation without even realizing it.

Tails walked up to Ajuur. Now _there_ was a beast who kill any thoughts of perversion on sight!

"Ah, Mysterious Stranger!" the Hutt exclaimed. "Right on time! You ready to step into the ring again?"

"Yes."

"Good! You handled Duncan pretty well. I think you're ready to fight Gerlon Two-fingers now. Just remember: Gerlon uses blasters in the ring sometimes. The duel will begin in fifteen minutes. Prepare yourself, furry one, and fight well!"

The orange Twi'leck female lead him back to the waiting area downstairs, and he performed his stretching exercises in preparation for the coming duel. If Gerlon was going to try and shoot him, he would need all his available speed and flexibility. Tails' mind focused on tactics and strategy, and he constructed several battle plans in his head. The teenager forgot all about girls.

On time, the large metal door opened, and this time the bright lights didn't blind him. Tails walked forward, and stood at the edge of the dueling ring.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the disembodied announcer called. "Draw your eyes to the center ring! We have a very special presentation in store for you! In this corner, one of the greats, a man so tough even a disfiguring injury couldn't end his career! I give you... Gerlon Two-fingers!"

The crowd cheered.

"And in the other corner, a relative newcomer to the Taris dueling scene. Emerging from the shadows with no history, no past, and no name! The Mysterious Stranger!"

No one booed as they had last time, but the cheering for Tails was still subdued. Not that he really cared much.

The air horn blared.

"So, you're the upstart alien who beat up Doofus Duncan, eh?" Gerlon called from across the ring. "Well, I can assure you, I'm a whole different ball game!"

That instant, Gerlon drew his blaster. Tails observed his hand: only a thumb and two fingers were found on it. And yet, Gerlon had a perfect grip on his weapon. Gerlon aimed.

Before the Human could fire, Tails contorted his body out of the way, and the blaster pulse missed by several inches. Gerlon kept firing, and the fox kept dodging. Tails' own blaster was still clipped to his belt, but he decided it would be more entertaining if he remained unarmed. The boy charged in a zig-zagging pattern, bobbing and weaving out of Gerlon's line of fire as he ran. The Human's blaster shots became more challenging to evade as he approached, but Gerlon was having trouble just tracking him. Tails was now upon him.

"Hold still you...ACK!"

_Thwack!_

As Tails bolted past him, he whipped Gerlon across his stomach. The Human fell on his backside, but quickly rolled and hopped back on his feet. Now several yards away, Tails taunted him by smiling and sticking out his tongue.

"You little wretch!"

Gerlon Two-Fingers twitched the trigger as fast as he could, but couldn't score a hit on the orange blur who was bouncing all over the arena. Tails was panting, but wasn't straining himself too badly. He figured he could have another minute or two of "play time" before he needed to get serious. Gerlon pulled something out of the vest he was wearing and chucked it at the Mobian. Tails skidded to a halt, spun on his toes, and blasted off again at a ninety-degree angle, hoping to miss it. The concussion grenade exploded were Tails had been, and the shock wave washed over him, knocking him off his feet. But instead of landing on his face, Tails curled into a ball and dashed righed for Gerlon.

The Human was panicking now, and Gerlon shot wildly, trying to blast the rolling furball before he closed in on him. Taking a page from Sonic's skillbook, the spinning Mobian zig-zagged at hard angles, each turn bringing him closer to his target. Finally in striking range, Tails shot straight for Gerlon's chest. But, instead of crashing into him, Tails uncurled at the last moment. Sailing over Gerlon's head, the fox grabbed a handful of Gerlon's shirt in each glove.

"What the?!"

Flipping over him, Tails picked Gerlon right off his feet and flung the man over himself.

_Smack!_

Gerlon thudded to the floor, face down. Slowly, painfully, the Human wobbled to his feet. Grinning smugly, Tails simply crossed his arms and lashed both his namesakes behind him. Gerlon checked himself and found his blaster was missing: Tails was stepping on it under one boot.

"Had enough, Human?" Tails taunted.

"I'll get you, furball!"

Gerlon finally charged him, pulling a knife off his belt. Gerlon was a lot more focused than Duncan was, but it really didn't matter. Tails had no intention of getting stabbed.

Like lightning, Tails swiveled out of Gerlon's path, leapt into the air and spun, bull-whipping Gerlon behind the head with both his tails. The force of the blow sent the Human sprawling to the floor, but this time he didn't get up.

Gerlon was out cold.

"Unbelievable! It's over! The fight is over!" the announcer exclaimed. "The Mysterious Stranger has won! Gerlon losing to a rookie! Is this a sign that his injuries have finally caught up with him, or is this 'Mysterious Stranger' for real? Only time will tell!"

The spectators roared. The same two medical droids appeared and carted the unconscious Gerlon away, and Tails made a couple elegant bows before leaving. The orange female Twi'lek smiled and congratulated him once again, and Tails marched up the stairway back into the cantina.

"Amazing! Truly amazing!" declared Ajuur the Hutt. "Six thousand credits! Nearly six thousand credits! You're a sensation, young fighter! You're making me rich!"

"Glad to be of service," said Tails, folding his arms across his chest.

"I always pay my debts. Your contract is ten percent of the purse, and that's what you get."

Five hundred ninety-two credits were transferred to Tails' datapad.

"Come back! Oh, please come back! I haven't had this much business in years!" the Hutt gurgled. "The spectators are clamoring for the best duelists on all of Taris to be brought out! They'll be here tomorrow! Tomorrow I say! I can't wait! I can taste those credits pouring in already!"

The ugly slug continued his rant, not caring who was listening, if anybody. It was disgusting to watch him squirm as he did, and Tails didn't want to stick around. He was tired out, anyway; that concussion grenade took a lot out of him, and his ears were still ringing. Tails' body was aching again, and he figured that his wounds from the _Endar Spire_ and the subsequent crash-landing still needed time to heal. Ajuur was still too absorbed in himself to notice, but the fox made a discreet exit and headed for the dining area.

Tails found Carth Onasi sitting at a table. Ambling over to him, Tails sat down on the too-large chair at the too-tall dining table.

"Welcome back," Carth said. He was eating some sort of soup and salad. "I watched your last fight on the big monitor over there. I must say, I'm impressed by your combat skills."

"What, jumping into the middle of a Sith mob and surviving wasn't good enough?" Tails asked with a wry grin. "Trust be, I've had more than my share of high-stakes combat back on Mobius, Earth, and a few other planets. Besides, it was a one-on-one match. It was _easy._"

Carth just chuckled. "OK, I get your point."

"Did you manage to discover anything useful?" Tails inquired.

The Republic soldier sighed. "No, not much. I got a rumor, but I'll explain it when we get back to the apartment. Not here."


End file.
